Take the desert sands from a cursed, ancient city and strain it through a sieve. Collect it again underneath. Take the sand to fire and set it alight, then take the gilded crumbs and grind them down with pestle and mortar until smooth. Add water from a nearby, arcane stream to intensify its effects and stretch the potion out. Watch as the sands dissolve like salt. Liquified, watch as it grows to stand on two feet. Pure, refined passion. It beckons towards you with two attractive fingers and sways side to side in the light of the moon. The scent, intoxicating. The face makes you smitten. The body irrestible. The curves draw anyone with common sense, or lack of, right in. It almost stops you from thinking, the shape of it and the fire inside. It breathes with such intensity that you wonder if you’ve ever felt that way yourself. Your feet wobble towards the figure, a fly to the fly trap. Your deepest desire is a dance with this handsome figure. You reach out a hand to grab it by the glassy sides and raise it to your lips, feeling the fire honey within pour down your throat.

And when you wake up on the pavement later, you’ll wonder why it ever seemed so enticing at all.